8. Heartbreak Ahead
8
Heartbreak Ahead
Anton - Now
I tug at my neckline. My bowtie feels impossibly tight. This entire day has me off kilter. From seeing Rose outside the hotel this morning to being pounced on at the golf outing.
That was no big deal. Poor Paisley Gladwell. I’ve offered to pose for a photo with her, sign her River Foxes gear, whatever. But my lawyers and the powers-that-be tell me that’s not a good idea. Apparently, with crazed fans like that, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I mostly feel sorry for her. I don’t understand why someone would be obsessed with me. But what do I know? She’s not the first woman to throw herself at me—literally. Too bad the one woman who I’d actually welcome that sort of behavior from turned me down five years ago.
My gaze sweeps across the ballroom and lands on Rose. The fundraiser gala is in full swing. After our dinner, which was several hundred dollars a plate, the tables were cleared and moved off to the side to create an ample-sized dance floor. There’s a renowned deejay who’s making sure everyone is loose and dancing.
I am neither of those things. I feel stuck and stiff. Like my whole body is merely going through the motions of this event. All I can focus on is Rose.
The dress she’s wearing should be criminal. It’s a deep shade of red, and it wraps around her curves like it was painted on. It’s got long sleeves but a deep V neckline and an open back. Her short hair is swept off her face on one side with an oversized clip that’s sparkling in the dimmed lights of the ballroom. She looks like a sweet candied apple, and even though I know she’s poisonous, I can’t help but crave her.
She’s kept her distance from me since this morning, and logically speaking, I should appreciate that, but it’s even more torturous to watch her from afar. My Rose Radar has been beeping incessantly in my head, like one of those winter storm warning bulletins that flash across the bottom of the TV to warn of impending dangerous conditions. Instead of blinding snow and ice, my brain has been cycling through a ticker of warnings regarding Rose: Heartbreak ahead! Steer clear! Maintain adequate distance to avoid further hurt! Ignore her eyes. Ignore her smile. Don’t think about her quick wit. Dwell on her at your own risk!
Beep. Beep. Beeeeeep .
I wish there was a remote I could use to click off my brain—and my heart, for that matter.
I’m standing at the bar, nursing a non-alcoholic beer, when a couple joins me. She’s got long brown hair that falls in curls down her back, and he’s got broad shoulders and a square jawline. I nod at them, but I do a double-take when my gaze connects with the woman’s. I’d recognize the Kasper eyes anywhere.
“Anton Bates, right?”
I set my drink down and hold out my hand. “That’s me.”
She shakes my outstretched palm. “I’m Noli. And this is my husband, Collin.”
“Nice to meet you, man. We’re big River Foxes fans.” Collin shakes my hand and tucks his arm around Noli’s waist.
“Appreciate that. Where are y’all from?” I mask my snooping with a smooth question, but I’m dying to know why they’re here too. Are they tagging along with Rose on her assignment, or what’s the deal? What, if anything, do they know about me?
“Cashmere Cove. Not far from Green Bay. You know my sister.” Noli points across the room. “Rose. ”
I nod. Noli’s expression is mostly neutral, if a little curious, which has me guessing that Rose didn’t tell her much about me—or about us. “I do. From my time in Mobile.”
“I’m surprised she never mentioned you.”
I’m going to try not to take that personally. But it tracks with what Rose said when she ended things. There’s no future here.
Why would she have told her sisters about me when all I was to her was a guy she used for a casual fling?
“Is she living in Cashmere Cove now too?” I keep my tone casual.
“We’ve been invaded by all the Kasper sisters,” Collin answers with a chuckle.
“Don’t act like you don’t love having us around.” Noli pokes him in the side.
“I would never.” Collin kisses her temple.
I’m officially jealous of their comfort level with each other. I’ve always wanted someone to love me for me. Someone who I can trust enough to be myself and let my guard down around.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rose step into a dance with one of the pro-golfers who was part of the event earlier in the day. I involuntarily clench my fists at my sides as I catch a glimpse of her beaming up at him.
“Holland hasn’t changed a bit, has he?” Collin is tracking my gaze.
“Who’s that?” I glance at him.
Collin tips his chin in the direction of the dance floor. “Holland Bradley. He dated the third Kasper sister, Poppy.”
“But then she ended up with his brother, Mack,” Noli puts in. “It’s a long story. But everyone is happy now, so that’s all that matters.”
“You think he likes Rose?” Collin asks. It’s an innocent question, but I can physically feel my blood pressure skyrocket.
Noli swivels her gaze, pinpointing the pair on the dance floor. “They look good together. ”
She’s right, and I hate it. I don’t know Holland Bradley at all, but I hate him too. Even after all these years, the thought of Rose Kasper coupling up with anyone who is not me feels like a needle to my eardrum.
“No wonder she wanted to be here so badly.” Noli hums.
“Rose is here because of me,” I blurt out, surprising myself with the force of my declaration.
Noli and Collin stare at me with identical slack-jawed expressions on their faces.
“You?” Noli frowns. “Why?”
“She was hired to write an article on me. An in-depth personal interest piece.”
Collin arches his brows while Noli glances toward her sister.
“She didn’t mention that. Interesting. Very interesting,” she mutters. She studies me thoughtfully. “She said you hate her guts.”
I punch out a laugh, appreciating the way Noli is a straight-shooter. She and Rose have that in common.
“She’s not wrong about that.” I push my empty drink farther back on the bar. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go talk to her—about the article.”
I stalk toward the dance floor without waiting for their response.
Before I’m out of earshot, Noli says, “Something’s going on between those two.”
I can’t tell if she’s talking about Rose and me or Rose and Holland, but I don’t want to waste time figuring it out.